Tell Me Lies, Tell Me Sweet Little Lies
by Hedonistic Opportunist
Summary: Five times Light told a lie, and one time he didn't. L/Light.


_**Tell Me Lies, Tell Me Sweet Little Lies**_

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.

**A/N:**

I hadn't meant to write this pairing for a while, but then there's something just so eerily thrilling about writing those two. This here is hardly an original concept, but then what is original these days? And yes, I do suck for coming up with the dumbest titles ever XD.

Mainly self-edited, but _**Dooki-chan **_also gave me some (encouraging as well as helpful) pointers.

Feedback would be nice; I'd appreciate honest concrit, since I'd like to know where I could improve.

**Warning(s)**: some brackets abuse, a lot of dashes, heavily introspective, odd imagery and questionable prose. Semi-explicit smut.

...

It's quiet in the library - the loud chatter of students and footsteps only a quiet murmur, barely perceptible unless one decides to pay attention to the noise. Light doesn't, drowning himself in the words of the archaic, and, in his humble opinion, long rendered useless theories of Kant. His hands tremble slightly, as - once again - the realisation dawns upon him that, instead of rotting away here like some stupid berk in a pub, he could be at home and wield justice with his shiny black notebook and even shinier pen _(flick his hand with that aforementioned ballpoint pen of his and play God like all good little boys do)_.

Footfalls reverberate against the marble floor, old tennis shoes clapping as relentlessly against the floor as a horse grinds its teeth against one another on a frosty night. A strange simile, but Light has never claimed to be a writer and it's not like his private thoughts are privy to anyone, though he heavily suspects that L _- that bastard -_ would love to cut his head open and examine it - membrane by membrane - if he could get away with it.

_The ends justify the means_, L once told him, _as long you keep it within reasonable limits._

The footsteps come closer, and Light shudders instinctively as he notices someone's breath ghost down his neck: it's nearly like having ants crawl up and down his spine, and Light feels something inside of him tighten to a heavy knot. Heart-beat increasing to rhythmic thump-a thumps, Light feels the blood come a-pumping faster through his veins and something like excitement curls itself around him, only that he's not feeling hot, but cold - freezing up inside like an icicle.

Light doesn't look up; he knows who it is, as well as he knows that he can't avoid this meeting - confrontation? - either. No, it's a confrontation: nothing between him and L (or Ryuuga, or whatever nickname that asshole comes up with) is innocent. It's all a gamble, where conflicting ideologies, theories and possibilities, but - most importantly - lives are at a stake.

_L_, he wants to hiss out, _go back to that fucking hell-hole you crawled out from._

But that he can't do that _(life is just a stage and everyone has to take a part in it, no matter how odious a performance it is)._

"Ryuuga," Light greets his colleague with as much pretend-delight as he can manage, and points to the chair beside him. "I'm so happy to see you."

--

Light doesn't really know what L's doing in his prison cell, and - with irritation flaring up in him like fireworks - wonders whether he's here to mock him or just stare at his piteous state: hands tied behind his back and confined to this empty space with the grey iron bars and even duller walls engulfing him like a black fog _(drowning him in its darkness, and dragging him deeper and deeper into the lowest regions of hell)._

Of course, as he watches that man keeping his insect-like eyes fixed on his form, Light remembers that it's both mockery and curiosity rolled in one, and that nothing L does is without some form of sadism. Because, that's all L is - a sadist who likes to observe and watch something become undone before his very eyes.

Yet, Light is not all too keen on humouring his perverse little fantasies. So, he just keeps his eyes closed, listening to the sound of candy wrappers being torn open and L munching away at sweets; it's not like L could ever forget about his precious, most darling hobby ever: devouring as much sugary junk food as a human-being can possibly muster.

And, for a while, the equation works out just fine for them: L eats while Light falls into a trance of how everything will change once he enacts revenge. His hands tighten themselves to a grip, and he shakes with frolicsome excitement as he thinks of how he'll put L into a metaphorical grinder and smash him - and his damned theories to bits and pieces. He's so entranced by that daydream that he never really notices that L has stopped eating.

It's only when L shuffles closer to him, his bare feet creating those _slide slide _sounds against the floor that Light's eyes snap open. And, nearly immediately, he feels the blood in his veins turn to ice.

"What do you want?" Light asks, eyes narrowing as he notes that L is kneeling down - they are face to face - and L is close, _too close_.

L never answers - just grabs him by the hem of his shirt and Light, tied and shackled up here like some ruddy dog, can't find back as the older man kisses him, slamming their lips together so harshly that it could break teeth. L kisses the way he does everything else: probing and probing until Light just can't do anything but react. And Light can't help opening his mouth, nor can he avoid moaning into the kiss as L's talented tongue massages his own; L's hands are on his waist, pulling him closer - and Light is trapped, pinned against the wall like a collector's butterfly.

Anger coils in Light's stomach, but there's something else - something that like hot wires - makes him feel like he's burning up from inside - and he can't fight it. L, however, doesn't give him much opportunity to resist, sliding between his legs and rubbing their groins together. Gnashing his teeth, Light does his best not to moan out, and digs his fingers deeply into his palms - it stings but it's better than laying all cards out in the open.

_Once you've done that_, Light thinks, _you can never win your pride back again_.

"Light-kun, you want me - don't you?" L then asks, sliding his hands under Light's shirt, his long fingers lazily tracing patterns on his stomach. "You want this."

Light bites his underlip, and closes his eyes; L is licking his neck lovingly and it's so bad that Light hisses, feeling that he's getting more and more aroused by the second.

"No, I don't want – I don't want this at all; it's just a physical reaction," Light whispers as L's hands slide downwards.

There's a sigh, and L shakes his head - smiling before kissing him again. But it's not really a smile, more like a condescending smirk that makes Light want to bash L's face in, so that he can taste his own blood dripping down his lips.

_(He's God, after all. Or he will be, once he has gotten rid off all the enemies hindering him on his ascension to glory). _

L's hand is encased against his cock, but he only presses it briefly. Light gasps. Then, he feels his pants being pulled down, and opens his eyes in horror again - it can't be. L is not really going to -?

But the unholy smirk lighting up on L's pale face promises nothing good, and Light resigns himself to his fate, realising that he can't fight this vermin of a man.

L sticks one finger inside inside of his anus, and Light grunts as something pain-discomfort skittles over him, leaving his body a-trembling as if he were in the middle of a heavy storm.

But still, he keeps his mouth glued shut - he doesn't want this.

He doesn't want L.

_(It's just his being sexually frustrated – just a physical reaction, just a biological need). _

And that's what Light tells himself as L - after unzipping his jeans and entering him brusquely - drives into him, slamming his back against the wall with each thrust. The pain is blinding and Light fights back the tears beginning to form underneath his eyelids, refusing L to conquer him. Not even as the pain is replaced by something more intense, and Light feels nearly feverish from the heat taking over him.

--

Strangely, sharing a bedroom with Ryuuzaki is tolerable. At least, Light reasons, it's much better than living at home, where he always feels like having to walk through burning coals _(always pretending to care, always pretending to smile and always having to be the perfect son, student and brother)._

In spite of being under L's constant surveillance, Light doesn't really have play pretend that much here: L doesn't care about anything that doesn't pertain to the Kira case. Although they're so close now - sitting next to each other and using the same table - Light still feels that he's alone. It's nice, comforting even.

And yet, Light is unsettled at the moment. Not because he feels uncomfortable in L's presence but because there's something in the back of his mind that tells him that not everything is the way it seems to be. That suspicion haunts him at nights when he wakes up gasping, dreaming of things that make no sense at all- dreams of apple-loving monsters and black notebooks glistening silver in the night.

Sometimes, he feels like there's a giant puzzle to that great mystery that is Kira, and that he - Light Yagami - holds the key to it.

"Light-kun, would you like to eat -" L says and shoves his dish to Light, not bothering to finish the sentence.

Light, blinking after being torn out of his reverie, pushes the dish back to L, shaking his head. "No, thank you. It's fine."

"Are you certain?"

"I'm sure, Ryuuzaki," Light replies, slightly bemused at the way the older man is eyeing him. "Why are you being so concerned about me?"

"You look slightly distressed," L replies matter-of-factly, and Light has to fight back the indignation rising within him.

_This isn't genuine_, he realises, _this is just another trick to make me confess. _

Light wonders whether there's a tinge of emotion in that man's body or whether he's just become so good at desensitizing himself to everything that nothing can reach him.

And suddenly, a hot-thin needle of regret creeps into his consciousness and Light finds himself missing home; missing his mother's concern, his sister's pestering and his father's silent approval. Light gnaws against his underlip, forcing himself to remain calm, although homesickness is taking him under siege.

"I'm not distressed," Light finally answers, even though he knows that L doesn't believe him _(never has and never will). _

L nods, and goes back to typing something into that beloved laptop of his.

And, in that instant, Light wishes him dead.

--

The chains are undone and -_finally, finally_ - victory can be his.

L doesn't seem surprised to see him; his eyes are on him - ever suspecting, and ever taunting. "You're glad I've been proven wrong, aren't you?"

Light immediately snaps out of his idealism-tainted dreams, and is brought back to the present: him and L, standing in that badly-illuminated room with the large window giving them a full glimpse of overarching skyscrapers - Tokyo in all its modern and arrogant beauty.

"Sorry?"

He's heard correctly, but Light decides to play along - maybe because he's bored or feeling a tad bit merciful. Maybe it's because - deep down - he senses that, now that the shackles that have been taken off his wrists, that the ties which bind him to L are slowly, but surely unfurling.

L kisses him, and then whispers into his ear: "You've always wanted to break me - just like I wanted to break you."

Light doesn't answer, his throat dry – and it's not like L expects a reply.

"It's not a lie, Light-kun and you know it. This -" L pauses, and he smiles - a real smile this time, which strikes Light as being nostalgic. He feels a lump form in his throat as L pushes him down the bed, his weight pining him even further down the mattress.

"This little thing between us has been nothing, but an elimination game from the start. The best keeps all, while the loser gets nothing," L says against his neck, as his hands undo Light's shirt.

"I know," Light says simply in response.

As he lets L take him this time, it's not so much about the fucking. _No, not fucking_ because that is just two hot and eager bodies pressed against each other, moving and grinding against one another in order to get closer to the climax - which, for each, is something else: Light wants escape and pleasure, while L seeks evidence.

They don't say a word to each other, as L starts moving inside of Light; his thrusts are nearly gentle this time, and L seems to be in want of prolonging this, as if he knew that time is running against him.

--

_Tick, tick_, the clock goes and Light stares resolutely at the wall in front of him: all white-washed and devoid of any conspicuous holes that he could turn to analysing in favour of listening to Misa's useless small talk.

Misa is downing another glass of wine - it's her third or fourth that night, but it's not like Light cares to count. It's none of his business what Misa does as long as she doesn't interfere with his plans_ (he's on his best way to achieve them, ascending higher and higher on the golden staircase)._

"I miss him," Misa voice utters all of sudden, and - abruptly - claws him out of his daydream.

Light rolls his eyes. "Who?"

"Ryuuzaki," she suddenly says and then breaks out into a giggle.

It's nearly like a punch has been landed straight against Light's face - knocking off the wind in his lungs, and he has to grip the edge of his chair to keep his perfectly schooled mask of nonchalance from crumbling.

_Stay calm,_ he reprimands himself, _stay calm. Don't allow anyone to see how much this is really tearing you apart.  
_  
"He was such a funny man. A pervert and, yes - he did wear strange clothes and always hunched so strangely. Besides, he had creepiest eyes ever but I miss tugging at his hair," Misa goes on, thoughtfully circling her fingers around the rim of her wine glass,"I can't believe it's been five years."

_(Five years since L has been put down under the earth, five years since maggots have been eating away at his rotting body and five years - five damned years - that Light has done his best, his utmost to keep that carcass from breaking the lids of that horrid coffin open and coming back to haunt him)._

"Light, don't you miss him?"

"No, I don't. Not at all," Light replies icily and stands up, dusting off his hands against his trousers. "Excuse me for a bit."

And as Light retches and slumps down on the bathroom floor, he tells himself it's only the flu and that it has nothing - whatsoever - to with L.

_(Old dogs - once shot down - should stay put in their murky graves, where they've been put to eternal rest)._

...


End file.
